Poem
Roberta Petzoldt
Pixel-perspective
A second to the left of the now.Someone reads a book but only sees the people who see him
someone has a headache in the sun
someone hears something that isn’t being said
someone sees a landslide on paper
someone wants to understand themselves
someone walks like a dog through the hot streets of Kingston
someone sees dead trees
someone makes way for families
someone considers themselves beyond the horizon.
Someone jumps off a Croatian rock, knows how the water feels
yet she does it again and again.
Every day we eat things we have eaten before.
Someone stays in bed to examine a crack in the wall
his father used to call it existentialism.
Someone sees Sartre talking the night away next to a singer dressed in black
but someone wants to say nothing.
and demands happiness by doing nothing.
Does the thought believe in itself?
how high is that thought?
what does a thought do if it isn’t being thought?
The space opens up in my perception
I think whitewashed bricks
I think what’s missing here is some water.
The thought rolls over, sees its own tail slip away.
Someone rows on the amazon he read about in a book
occasionally he goes ashore and grips trees.
Someone stands on a small ladder protruding from the water
towards the tiled edge
the same small steel ladder she used in year five to climb
out of her swimming lesson.
Gradually the pool fills up
the freshwater dolphin swims towards her, wants to teach her what it’s like to breathe.
Someone throws himself into the Aegean Sea because he sees black sails
his son swims towards him, his beard foamy.
Does my cat know she saved my life by
filling my heart again and again?
does a duck know he is being drawn on a piece of paper?
does a newspaper know what peace is?
does the sea know the feeling of fire?
We shout Fire! Mean get out.
We shout Air! And say I am still alive.
Thoughts I can’t place appear
in a house, the house rises from my pillow at night.
Square words jump out of the window, the atmosphere of heavy metals
a step poses as a floor.
We shout Water! We beg for forgiveness.
We shout Earth! And say: finally.
Someone swallows a land border
someone joins hands
someone remembers themselves.
© Translation: 2020, Laurens van de Linde
Pixel-perspectief
Pixel-perspectief
Een seconde naar links van het nu.Iemand leest een boek maar ziet alleen de mensen die hem zien
iemand heeft hoofdpijn in de zon
iemand hoort iets dat niet gezegd wordt
iemand ziet een aardverschuiving op papier
iemand wil zich begrijpen
iemand loopt als een hond door de hete straten van Kingston
iemand ziet dode bomen
iemand wijkt voor families
iemand bedenkt zich voorbij de horizon.
Iemand springt van een Kroatische rots af, weet hoe het water voelt
toch doet zij het steeds weer.
We eten elke dag dingen die we al vaker aten.
Iemand blijft in zijn bed liggen om een barst in de muur te bekijken
zijn vader noemde het existentialisme.
Iemand ziet Sartre naast een zangeres in het zwart de nacht volpraten
maar iemand wil niks zeggen
en eist geluk door niets te doen.
Gelooft de gedachte in zichzelf?
hoe hoog is die gedachte?
wat doet een gedachte als hij niet gedacht wordt?
De ruimte opent zich in mijn waarneming
ik denk witgekalkte baksteen
ik denk hier mist nog wat water.
De gedachte draait zich om, ziet zijn eigen staart wegglippen.
Iemand roeit op de amazone die hij in een boek las
soms gaat hij aan wal en houdt bomen vast.
Iemand staat op een trappetje dat zich uit het water opricht
naar de tegelkant
hetzelfde stalen trappetje waarmee zij in groep vijf uit
haar zwemles klom.
Langzaam loopt het zwembad vol
de zoetwaterdolfijn zwemt naar haar toe, wil haar leren wat ademen is.
Iemand stort zich in de Egeïsche Zee omdat hij zwarte zeilen ziet
zijn zoon zwemt naar hem toe, schuim in zijn baard.
Weet mijn poes dat ze mijn leven gered heeft door
mijn hart telkens weer te vullen?
weet een eend dat hij op een papier getekend wordt?
weet een krant wat vrede is?
weet de zee hoe vuur voelt?
We roepen Brand! Bedoelen wegwezen.
We roepen Lucht! En zeggen ik leef nog.
Gedachten die ik niet kan plaatsen, verschijnen
in een huis, het huis staat in de nacht op uit mijn kussen.
Vierkante woorden springen het raam uit, de sfeer van zware metalen
een traptree doet zich als verdieping voor.
We roepen Water! We smeken genade.
We roepen Aarde! En zeggen eindelijk.
Iemand slikt een landgrens door
iemand slaat de handen in elkaar
iemand herinnert zich.
© 2019, Roberta Petzoldt
From: Vruchtwatervuurlinie
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
From: Vruchtwatervuurlinie
Publisher: Van Oorschot, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Roberta Petzoldt
Close
Pixel-perspective
A second to the left of the now.Someone reads a book but only sees the people who see him
someone has a headache in the sun
someone hears something that isn’t being said
someone sees a landslide on paper
someone wants to understand themselves
someone walks like a dog through the hot streets of Kingston
someone sees dead trees
someone makes way for families
someone considers themselves beyond the horizon.
Someone jumps off a Croatian rock, knows how the water feels
yet she does it again and again.
Every day we eat things we have eaten before.
Someone stays in bed to examine a crack in the wall
his father used to call it existentialism.
Someone sees Sartre talking the night away next to a singer dressed in black
but someone wants to say nothing.
and demands happiness by doing nothing.
Does the thought believe in itself?
how high is that thought?
what does a thought do if it isn’t being thought?
The space opens up in my perception
I think whitewashed bricks
I think what’s missing here is some water.
The thought rolls over, sees its own tail slip away.
Someone rows on the amazon he read about in a book
occasionally he goes ashore and grips trees.
Someone stands on a small ladder protruding from the water
towards the tiled edge
the same small steel ladder she used in year five to climb
out of her swimming lesson.
Gradually the pool fills up
the freshwater dolphin swims towards her, wants to teach her what it’s like to breathe.
Someone throws himself into the Aegean Sea because he sees black sails
his son swims towards him, his beard foamy.
Does my cat know she saved my life by
filling my heart again and again?
does a duck know he is being drawn on a piece of paper?
does a newspaper know what peace is?
does the sea know the feeling of fire?
We shout Fire! Mean get out.
We shout Air! And say I am still alive.
Thoughts I can’t place appear
in a house, the house rises from my pillow at night.
Square words jump out of the window, the atmosphere of heavy metals
a step poses as a floor.
We shout Water! We beg for forgiveness.
We shout Earth! And say: finally.
Someone swallows a land border
someone joins hands
someone remembers themselves.
© 2020, Laurens van de Linde
From: Vruchtwatervuurlinie
From: Vruchtwatervuurlinie
Pixel-perspective
A second to the left of the now.Someone reads a book but only sees the people who see him
someone has a headache in the sun
someone hears something that isn’t being said
someone sees a landslide on paper
someone wants to understand themselves
someone walks like a dog through the hot streets of Kingston
someone sees dead trees
someone makes way for families
someone considers themselves beyond the horizon.
Someone jumps off a Croatian rock, knows how the water feels
yet she does it again and again.
Every day we eat things we have eaten before.
Someone stays in bed to examine a crack in the wall
his father used to call it existentialism.
Someone sees Sartre talking the night away next to a singer dressed in black
but someone wants to say nothing.
and demands happiness by doing nothing.
Does the thought believe in itself?
how high is that thought?
what does a thought do if it isn’t being thought?
The space opens up in my perception
I think whitewashed bricks
I think what’s missing here is some water.
The thought rolls over, sees its own tail slip away.
Someone rows on the amazon he read about in a book
occasionally he goes ashore and grips trees.
Someone stands on a small ladder protruding from the water
towards the tiled edge
the same small steel ladder she used in year five to climb
out of her swimming lesson.
Gradually the pool fills up
the freshwater dolphin swims towards her, wants to teach her what it’s like to breathe.
Someone throws himself into the Aegean Sea because he sees black sails
his son swims towards him, his beard foamy.
Does my cat know she saved my life by
filling my heart again and again?
does a duck know he is being drawn on a piece of paper?
does a newspaper know what peace is?
does the sea know the feeling of fire?
We shout Fire! Mean get out.
We shout Air! And say I am still alive.
Thoughts I can’t place appear
in a house, the house rises from my pillow at night.
Square words jump out of the window, the atmosphere of heavy metals
a step poses as a floor.
We shout Water! We beg for forgiveness.
We shout Earth! And say: finally.
Someone swallows a land border
someone joins hands
someone remembers themselves.
© 2020, Laurens van de Linde
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